Sloth
by AbstractError
Summary: Small derailing of another story caused by the classic definition of Sloth. Pairings: None. Stark and Dante Alighieri springs to mind, though Stark/Halibel implied. Disclaimer: I own rats, but own no Bleach.


'_Good morning, my dear Espada.'_

'_Good afternoon, my dear Espada.'_

'_Good evening, my dear Espada.'_

Finally forcing his eyes completely open, Stark yawned, concluding that it was not the time-of-day appropriate greeting that Aizen-sama always warmly extended when he entered the throne room that made him so irrepressibly bored, and thus, irrepressibly sleepy.

No, most certainly not.

It was the transparently false ending that the ex-Shinigami, future Master of the Universe, possible One True God, chose to attach to his greetings that acted as an infallible switch, promptly turning Stark's mind off, or at least sidetracking his thoughts to pleasant memories of stretching, sleeping, and switching positions while sleeping. Occasionally, memories of snoring while sleeping. As an afterthought, though, snoring was not always a pleasant memory; it all depended on the distance from Lilinette where it occurred, on the duration and pitch, and on whether Lilinette herself wanted to sleep at the time…

Pointless. Today, not even thinking intently of Lilinette could distract him from being miserable.

_My dear Espada…_Whether the words were a lie or a joke, they always removed Stark's interest for whatever Aizen would have to say next. And, in spite of the circumstances, this afternoon had been no exception.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as he considered the long, oval table before him. Oval – an amusing choice of shape; neither rectangular to imply strict hierarchy, nor round to prompt undue illusions of equality. A pleasant compromise, as long as everyone remembered who sat at the head of the table; judging by the blank looks on their faces, Yammy, Barragan and Halibel clearly did.

Stark yawned again, then started on Halibel's trail, heading towards the arched doorway and feeling even more eager to leave the throne room than he usually was. According to habit, Aizen had issued his commands and left. The only concession he had made for the special circumstances was the fact that he had not asked for tea to be served. Though the creator was gone, his voice and reiatsu still hung in the air behind him, thick, sweet, unavoidable, resembling the smell of rotting flesh. It not entirely unfitting, Stark thought, adjusting his strides to remain just half a step behind Halibel, since the room was, in the end of all things, a place where walking cadavers gathered. Or maybe, just maybe, the stench had been coming from Arroniero's completely ignored corpse, which, Stark was assured, would not have been discussed even if it had been lying – or rolling, as it were - on the table before them.

'Time for a nap,' he said, as if the non-directional farewell could chase away the unpleasant thought he had just conjured.

'Three Gotei captains are in Hueco Mundo, and you decide to sleep, instead of preparing your spirit for battle. Your sloth disgusts me,' Barragan sniped, without warning. Not truly impressed by the elderly Arrancar's aggressive growl, Stark had concluded that perhaps his disinterest in the orders Aizen had just issued had been a tad too obvious.

'It disgusts me too,' he answered, clearly pointing that he was too lazy to even argue. 'I try to cope with the overwhelming self loathing by sleeping it off. Excuse me, Barragan.'

Stark had followed Halibel out into the corridor, passing by Yammy and idly noticing the giant's pained and rather dumb stare, which was directed at Ulquiorra's empty seat. _That_ had not been discussed either.

For a moment, he entertained the illusion of turning around, patting Yammy on the shoulder, and loudly telling him the Caja Negacion would not kill his friend. That Ulquiorra, at least, would be back. He wanted to voice the thought not because he suspected Yammy himself did not know it, but because he wondered how truth sounded in that accursed room, when spoken out loud. Maybe the entire chamber was conditioned so that the walls would absorb any honest pronouncement.

'Sloth,' he said, when the tall, arched doorway was far enough behind for him to imagine that he spoke to Halibel alone. 'An interesting choice of words.'

The woman glared at him over her shoulder.

'Barragan is right to be furious at you,' she said sternly. 'You did not listen to a single word that was said.'

'When it was first included in the fine list of the seven deadly sins,' Stark absentmindedly uttered, 'sloth was not used to denote laziness. Rather, it was the sin of sadness. Melancholy, depression, joylessness – the refusal to enjoy the goodness of God and the glory of his creation, or the failure of loving God…how was it? With all of one's heart, all of one's mind, all of one's soul.'

'I admit it is true; I did not listen as hard as you did.' he yielded, with an innocent shrug. 'You know how limited my span of attention is – I really, really wanted to pay attention to Aizen-sama. But, for however much I tried, I always started counting the empty seats around the table, and sort of dozed off with my eyes open. Same effect as counting sheep, really.'

She scoffed in clear disgust, and quickened her pace, hoping to leave him behind.

'You know what was even more annoying?' he added, in the same slow, dreamy voice, though he matched her pace, stride for furious stride. 'That every time that I managed to focus and restart the count, I had to start from scratch, and I always only made it to four. But,' Stark had continued, in a tone that was suddenly cutting and brutally awake, 'I am sure there were more. How many empty seats did you count, Halibel?'

'Are you trying to provoke me?' she snapped, turning around with lightning quick gestures.

'No, I am just trying to make sure you can still count down from ten to four.' He had responded, lazily. 'I see that you still can, so my work here is done.'

The blonde Arrancar had visibly swallowed her words. On other occasions, in the long forgotten time when he had actually been arrogant enough to believe there was something – something in his words or something in his touch – that could have awakened whatever trace of soul she still had, Stark might have felt frustrated. Perhaps, he had amusedly thought, measuring the body he had once found irresistible though half closed eyes, even angry. At present, he felt nothing of the sort.

Her attachment to Aizen went far beyond Ulquiorra's; it was adoration, worship – loyalty beyond reward and love beyond lust. She was not just drunk on her power. Halibel truly and genuinely loved, and because he understood her affection for Aizen was sincere, Stark could not force himself to grudge it. She simply bored him, as did all the rest.

'I am sure Aizen-sama did not simply call us to repeat his earlier orders. He meant for us to see the empty seats.' Halibel noted, as if she had not heard him. 'And rest assured, Stark, that he notices and grieves over them as well...'

'Oh?' he mused from behind. 'You think he noticed? Such little things as Arroniero and Di Roi being dead, Grimmjow rebelling and putting Ulquiorra in a Caja Negacion, and Szayel Aporro actually missing an opportunity of crawling at his feet? While lustfully ogling at Gin?' Stark giggled, after a moment of consideration.

'Aizen-sama knows everything', Halibel snapped, undeniable fury in her voice.

'Yes, well, it would be hard not to, Szayel Aporro is a bit obvious,' Stark shrugged. 'In his defense, though, I do not think it is homosexuality, but rather narcissism…'

'If today should have taught you anything, it should have taught you that there is no room for disobedience when the enemy is on our doorstep!' Halibel hissed, turning around with the speed of lightning. 'He ordered us to wait; thus, we will wait.'

'Hey, no arguments from me,' Stark replied, defensively raising his palms. 'I do very well at waiting. I don't even need to know what I am waiting for, but then, neither do you. Neither of us sees fit to ask, and Aizen-sama does not see fit to tell us.'

Halibel's blue eyes had narrowed, burrowing into his soul and past his entire pretense.

'You are angry,' she stated; the discovery appeared to deeply please her, for her eyebrows furrowed as if, under the high collar of her dress, she'd been smirking with malicious amusement.

'Angry?' the man chuckled. 'Me? Nah.' He stretched his arms over his head and yawned, then walked past her to lean against the side wall, finding that even standing was too tiresome. He measured her for a long time, before speaking the unthinkable. 'I am just sinning in sloth.'

She'd vanished from his sight as soon as the words had been spoken, and Stark had imagined that before Halibel had stopped running, the Sonido had taken her to the other side of Las Noches, and right in front of Aizen's door.

'Yet, dear Halibel,' he had continued, as if she had still been listening, 'there is no need for you to run and tell God that I fail to revel in the beauty of his creation. He won't reward you by increasing your standing, just because you were kind enough to tell him. He already knows it. And you'd be surprised to know he doesn't really give a rat's ass.'

Just as he finished the phrase, he felt a sharp jab to his liver, so powerful that it almost knocked his back flat against the wall.

'Oi, ya know, she left,' Lilinette chimed, appearing by his side just as suddenly as Halibel had vanished. 'Quit talking to yourself like a retard.'

'I noticed, genius,' Stark sighed, raising an eyebrow and looking down at the little girl without spite. 'Don't think she appreciates my humor.'

'You don't have any,' the fracction answered, with a mischievous shrug.

'Oh, yeah?' he perked, in genuine rebellion. 'I think I do. In fact, let me tell you a good joke that I heard just the other day. It was Aizen-sama himself who told it.'

Though his voice was still cheerful, Stark's blue eyes lost all traces of warmth.

'_As long as you stand with me you are invincible._' he uttered, slowly and carefully articulating each word. 'Now, that's a good one. A bit subtle, but I think Gin got it, 'cuz he was grinning from ear to ear. I don't think Tousen did get it, though. Do you think he's deaf as well as blind?'

He clenched his jaws, grabbing the girl's shoulder as if he had needed to lean on her to keep his balance. In response, she looked up at him with an expression that made her pretty features look insufferably serious.

'You are not laughing, Lilinette,' Stark whispered. 'Neither was I.'


End file.
